He was smoking, and while he was with me he emptied his pipe and
filled it again. He thought he had knocked the burning ash in the
grate, but it had fallen in the turn-up of his right trouser-leg.
Should I tell him? I wondered. He would, of course, find it out from
the smell, but meanwhile the cloth would be burned through.
"Your trouser's burning," I said.
That was the only remark I volunteered all that day; and really,
except now and then on business, I don't see why one should ever
talk more.
* * * * *